


Voodoo Child

by spacemonkey



Category: U2
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bono is having a crisis. Set in 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Edge rubbed at his eye with one hand and lifted his mug with his other, and he sipped slowly and sat back in his chair with a contented sigh. He could have stayed in bed for a few hours more, he was certain of it, but sitting there with a plate filled with eggs and bacon – and wasn’t he glad Morleigh wasn’t there to judge him quietly for his unhealthy choice, god love her – with a cappuccino in his hand, Edge found himself feeling pretty good about the day in front of him. He set down his mug and picked up his fork, and he dug into his food as he scrolled through his emails on his iPad. There wasn’t anything that needed tending to straight away, and Edge felt even better. He checked the morning headlines and chewed his food slowly, and when his phone vibrated against the table Edge glanced at it briefly before picking his mug back up. He drank generously and looked over his game apps, and when his phone went off again he rolled his eyes and set his mug back down.

He had a feeling about who it might be, and his feeling was right on the money.

_can you come to my room?_

_Edge, I need you!!_

 Edge raised an eyebrow. He was suddenly picturing very bad thoughts in his mind, and it was much too early for such bad thoughts. He figured Bono was just speaking in general dramatics though, and Edge shook his head and typed out a reply.

_I’m eating breakfast_

He kept his phone in hand and took another mouthful of scrambled eggs, certain he wouldn’t be waiting long for a reply, no matter how slowly Bono texted. He barely had time to swallow his mouthful before his phone was going off in his hand.

_FUCK YOUR BREAKFAST_

Edge started laughing, and he stared at the screen and considered his options. He was sure that it might make the situation worse if he wrote back something about literally fucking his breakfast, and he was very seriously considering it when his phone buzzed again.

_I’m having a crisis Edge please_

Edge sighed. In the world of Bono, a crisis could mean anything and usually it was something completely inane that was surely world ending to Bono at that point in time, never mind that when something actually was seriously wrong with Bono himself it was all fine all the time, no need to worry. Edge was well versed, so well versed it actually scared him sometimes, and he thought it through and figured it couldn’t be too bad if Bono was simply texting him.

_Can’t you come here instead?_

The reply came back lightning quick, and Edge was impressed by Bono’s speed, even though it was a single word.

_NO_

Edge waited for Bono to expand on that, and when nothing came he set his phone back down and continued on with his breakfast, not feeling too hurried at all. Sure, he had to admit he was feeling a little curious, but he didn’t want to miss out on such a nice meal. It had started to go cold though, started to lose some of its appeal, and Edge twisted his mouth as he stared down at the half empty plate, and he wasn’t surprised in the least when his phone started to vibrate again. It didn’t stop at one though, and Edge looked over and saw Bono’s duckface on his screen.  He set down his fork and mentally prepared himself before answering, wishing there was a way to ban dramatics before midday.

“I’m coming, alright? Just let me-”

“No, I’m freaking out!” Bono’s voice sounded odd, and not in the way Edge had expected it to. He started to get concerned.

“What is it?” There was a pause, and Edge could make out Bono’s harsh breathing and he felt like an absolute bastard. “B?”

“Just hurry.”

The line went dead and Edge looked at his phone quickly before slipping it straight into his pocket. He pushed his plate back and finished his cappuccino in one go and he stood up quick and headed for the door. He snagged his keycard on the way out and shut the door firmly behind him before turning and walking two doors down to Bono’s room. He glanced at the do not disturb sign briefly before raising his hand and knocking quietly, and he waited and waited and was about to knock again when he heard a click. The door opened slowly and stopped halfway, and Edge blinked when he came face to face with no one. “Bono?”

“Hurry it up, Edge.” Bono’s voice came from behind the door, and obviously that’s where he was. Edge shook his head at himself and stepped inside and immediately peeked behind the door. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, and he wouldn’t have guessed it in a million years. He stopped and stared, and the door closed soundly and Edge continued to stare. Bono stared back at him, wide eyed and fresh faced, and Edge took in the hair and the jaw and the cheekbones and he gaped at Bono and lifted a hand uselessly. It stayed hanging in the air and Bono looked at his fingers and then back at Edge’s face, and his expression was one of shock and confusion with a side of hopeful. Surely he’d called Edge to come and help him, and it was always how it went, and Edge couldn’t stop staring to even think about trying for a solution, because Bono had lost thirty years, give or take.

Edge nearly started laughing, nearly turned and walked straight back out the room, and he felt faint, he felt incredibly faint and he looked at the way Bono’s hair brushed at his shoulders and it was so familiar and so long ago, and he steadied himself against the door and said the only thing that he could think to say.

“What the _fuck_?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It's too hot to brain here at the moment. This started off as crack, and yet...I don't know. WHO KNOWS. And really, this has turned a lot more slow moving than I'd expected. God...if this ends up to be sixteen chapters...

He should have just stayed in bed.

It had been a good twenty minutes, and Edge had been trying to come up with a rational thought since the moment he’d looked around the goddamn door. He’d stared at Bono and blinked and almost pinched himself, because surely it must have been a dream, but there had been Bono still standing in front of him with a look about him that made Edge’s brain cease firing. The words had flown fast from Bono’s mouth and Edge had found it hard to concentrate. He’d poked and prodded Bono and joined him in a bout of hysterics that had ended almost as quickly as it had started, and he’d watched Bono pace back and forth with his hands flying every which way before ultimately settling down against the couch with his arms crossed and his face sullen, and Edge was trying, he was trying so hard to get his brain into gear, but all he could think was that he just should have stayed in his fucking bed.

It was too late though, no matter how many times the thought of just getting up and walking out popped up in the back of his mind, and Edge sighed and scrubbed at his face and looked back at the problem at hand. It was like looking at a fucking kid, compared to what he was used to, and it certainly didn’t help matters when Bono had that look on his face. “Are you crying?”

“No!” Bono exclaimed, and turned to admire the window. Edge watched the hand come up and wipe at his face, and he felt lost in a way that he wasn’t used to dealing with. Bono was young, he was so fucking young, and Edge got stuck quickly on the line of Bono’s neck. It was almost hidden by thick, dark hair, and he’d almost forgotten what Bono had looked like with hair that long. It brushed his shoulders when he moved, and Edge blinked slowly and couldn’t quite form a proper thought. Bono was just so fucking young, and the thoughts that were going through his mind made him feel slightly lecherous. “Edge!”

“What?” He tore his eyes away and found Bono staring at him in a way that made Edge remember thrown microphones and shouted curses. He straightened up and tried to behave, but it was hard, it was so hard and surely Bono had to realize. “Sorry. But, well. You know.” He gestured at Bono hoping it would be enough, and Bono just continued to stare and that was distracting enough in itself. It had been a long time since his eyes had been that clear, that blue, and Edge stared back until he started to lose focus. “Uh-”

“Are you getting off on this?” Bono hissed, and Edge snapped right on back.

“No!” he exclaimed. It sounded a tad too defensive, and he knew it as soon as the words left his mouth. Bono narrowed his eyes and Edge had to look away. He was younger than Hollie, it was weird, it was strange, it was so far left of centre and yet, he was starting to feel the first niggles of complacency. Among other things.

He shook it off, and looked back at Bono and tried to focus on the problem at hand. “Alright. Alright. So, alright-”

“Christ.” Bono shook his head and looked skyward. “And here I was thinking you’d be the best one to call.”

It cut him deep, and he wasn’t really sure why, but Edge found himself puffing up a bit and trying for a scathing response. He took one look at Bono and just couldn’t do it though, and then he caught sight of Bono’s chest hair peeking out from under his bathrobe, and he got that same worked up feeling like he was a teenager. His hands shook and he felt a little wrong, and he wondered if it was catching. “I didn’t exactly wake up this morning thinking I was going to have to deal with this, alright?”

Bono just stared at him for a full twenty seconds before violently gesturing to himself. “Edge, I woke up this morning like _this_!”

Edge looked him up and down and knew that he wasn’t going to win this round. He nodded blankly, because really what else could he do, and waited until the look of hysteria left Bono’s face for what must have been at least the twelfth time that morning. And waited. And reached out a hand and grasped at Bono’s trembling fingers. “Hey, it’s going to be alright,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone, and Bono nodded and took a deep breath. Edge smiled and rubbed Bono’s palm with his thumb, and he felt like he was about to selfcombust. He didn’t know it was going to be alright. What the fuck did he know? He knew computers and guitars and chords and just once he’d come close to finding out the secrets of the universe, but he didn’t know how to deal with the Bono at hand. It was actually overwhelming, and they had commitments and concerts and a gaggle of fans waiting outside their hotel every morning and every night, and if they saw, if the media found out-

Edge felt his chest tighten and his throat catch, and he looked at Bono and smiled encouragingly until Bono smiled back; tight, freaked and less than stable, but it was something at least. “Alright, so let’s go through this then.”

“Alright.”

Edge released Bono’s hand, and he felt bad for it when he saw Bono’s face drop, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly whilst touching Bono. Even looking back at his hands was proving to be a problem, and Edge was remembering being twenty six and having vivid daydreams of those hands touching him here and there and a hot mouth and soft hair dragging, and having to wait another three years before knowing it all for real. He swallowed tight and stood up quick, and it was mad, it was all so mad and intoxicating, and Edge wasn’t sure how they’d both managed to tour the world back then without fucking each other senseless.

Bono was looking at him again, looking at him like he was the strangest thing in the entire suite, and Edge sighed and rubbed at his forehead. There was pressure in his head, and he still wasn’t entirely convinced it all wasn’t some fever dream, but he knew he had to persevere. At the very least, underneath all the insanity and everything else, Edge was sure he was going to sit back any time now and find it completely fascinating.

Any time now. “So you woke up, uh, like this?”

“Yes.”

Edge nodded. He’d hoped that Bono would expand on that, hoped that Bono would just take over like he usually would and talk and talk until something stuck out, but for the first time in what felt like forever, Bono was quiet. “Right. Um. So, so you went to bed as soon as we got back last night?”

“I had a shower first.”

Edge twisted his mouth, thinking hard. He came up blank. “Well, that’s pretty normal. Right, so you went to bed old-” He stopped himself short when Bono glared at him, and yeah, he was sure he’d deserved that.

“I beg your fucking pardon?”

“Older, you went to bed older. Did you sleep normally?”

The glare stayed for a beat longer, and it was as sharp as it had ever been, and Edge was sure he was about to be assaulted. But then Bono’s face softened, and he nodded minutely. “Slept like a rock.”

“No strange dreams?”

“Besides the regular?”

“Besides the regular,” Edge confirmed.

“It was all normal, Edge. Until I woke up and-” Bono cut himself off with a laugh. “You know, I woke up and I felt wonderful and comfortable and my shoulder wasn’t aching and I thought ‘how nice’. It was a good day to wake up, Edge.” He looked down at his hands and Edge wanted to lean in close and hug him, wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, and he wanted to touch his hair. There was that same pressure in his skull, and he rubbed his fingers together and tried to think of the right thing to say. It didn’t come to him, and thankfully Bono didn’t seem to notice. “You remember that scene in Home Alone when the kid looks in the mirror and screams?” Bono pointed to himself and chuckled tiredly, and Edge found himself laughing along. It was ridiculous, it was so ridiculous, and he didn’t have the faintest idea of where to go from there. “I’m freaking out, Edge.”

“I know. I am too.”

“This doesn’t happen in real life. This is some Freaky Friday shit, you know?”

Edge sat back down on the couch and sighed. “Well, actually in Freaky Friday they swapped bodies.” Bono looked at him and Edge knew he should stop, but the words just kept on coming. “I’d say this is more like that Zac Efron movie that Sian used to watch all the time. I can’t even remember the name of that damn movie.” He almost pulled his phone out to google it, but Bono was still looking at him like he was speaking a different language, and Edge started laughing and continued laughing when Bono’s gaze sharpened. He couldn’t stop, and his ears were pounding in time with every sound that left his mouth, and he buried his face in his hands and jumped when there was a knock at the door. It was loud and invasive, and it stopped his laughter and forced him back to his feet. He was certain of who was behind the door, and he looked down at Bono and found him staring back with eyes as large as saucers.

“No,” Bono whispered. “No, don’t.”

Edge sighed. “They might be able to help, B.”

“I can’t. Edge-”

Bono jumped when the knock came again, and Edge looked to the door and felt like a rat bastard, but he just knew he had to. He couldn’t do it on his own, and he tuned out Bono’s stream of no’s and headed for the door.

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought of this premise a few weeks ago, and when I say premise I mean "wouldn't it be funny if Bono got turned into a 27 year old because reasons and Edge was like niiiice....yeah I got nothing else" and I chuckled about it then and moved on, and it came back to me tonight in full force. I don't know why or how and I'll work on it after I finish The Scientist, but I just had to get it out there because it's so, so fun to write.


End file.
